


Powering Down

by tamerofdarkstars



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, sleepy arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur sleeps, Eames is a valiantly noble pillow with only the purest of intentions, and Ariadne takes pictures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Powering Down

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick and dirty fill for this prompt over on the kink meme:
> 
> Arthur falls asleep in Eames' lap, or on Eames, by accident. And he's so embarrassed when he wakes up.   
> Bonus if Eames is initially a little distant and unsure how to handle it, but in the end when someone tries to wake Arthur up he's all NO, CAN'T YOU SEE HE'S EXHAUSTED.  
> Bonus for Arthur being pink and embarrassed when he wakes up. 
> 
> I kind of had to, it was far too adorable to let go.

Ariadne drew a single black line down the center of her paper. Two sections would be plenty – she could design the main restaurant area, as well as a twisting series of passages leading back into the kitchens. It should be plenty large enough for their purposes. And only one level? Piece of cake.

Their extractor this time around was standing at a white board propped up on an easel, scrawling out the basic details of their mark, a mildly influential businessman with some knowledge about his company’s expansion plans.  

Max Wilkins was a largely unknown extractor in the business. He was a huge, beastly man, with an enormous moustache that quivered indignantly every time he drew breath, but he had laugh lines creased into the skin around his eyes, and Ariadne liked him well enough.

“And that’s that then.” He said, turning away from the board and tapping the end of the marker against one meaty palm. “Should be right simple enough. Any questions?”

Ariadne shook her head. She half expected Arthur to raise some – there had to be something he’d thought of during the briefing that Max had neglected to mention – but their point man was silent.

“Right then. Off you go.” Max shooed them away, dropping the marker onto the easel as he headed towards the area he’d set aside for himself. Ariadne stood, stretching her arms above her head, feeling her spine lengthen gratefully after sitting for so long.

“Phew!” She dropped her arms to her sides with an audible slap. “Alright, let’s do this thing.”

She turned towards Eames, expecting a witticism or some other offhand comment, but Eames was sitting still and silent, almost stiff in his chair, fingers curled in the fabric of his pants.

Ariadne’s hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a giggle. Eames gave her a look, something akin to panic flitting across his face.

“Shh.” He hissed at her, lips barely moving. “You’ll wake him up.”

Arthur was asleep – the first non-chemically induced sleep Ariadne had ever seen him sleep, come to think of it. His mouth was open slightly, lips just barely parted, and his grip on his notepad was slack.

That wasn’t the interesting bit though – the interesting bit was that Arthur had slipped sideways in his chair, falling squarely against Eames, with his head on his shoulder. The two were pressed neatly together from knee to shoulder like puzzle pieces.

It was, without a doubt, the most adorable thing she’d ever seen, and Ariadne was trying desperately to resist the urge to take photos.

She failed quickly and lifted her phone, snapping a few shots from different angles.

Eames shot her a glare, but didn’t move a muscle.

“This is so cute.” She whispered.

“I can’t sit like this all bloody day – I have things to do.” But Eames’ words held little actual bite to them.

Ariadne approached them, squatting down on her haunches to peer up into Arthur’s sleeping face. “He must have been exhausted.” She breathed, watching Arthur’s eyelashes flutter against his pale cheeks.

“He works too damn hard.” Eames muttered, and when Ariadne glanced up at him, she was startled to see the openly affectionate look that flitted across their forger’s face. Eames managed to somehow pack years of silent affections into a single tight, wistful look and Ariadne suddenly felt strange like she was intruding on something she had no right to see.

It took her a moment to realize that Arthur was looking at her.

She jolted backwards in surprise, falling hard on her wrist, and Arthur blinked, once, slowly, before he carefully lifted his head. There was something sleepy and confused in his eyes, and as she watched, Arthur scrunched his entire face up and yawned widely.

Eames made a strangled sort of noise and Arthur’s entire body froze mid-yawn. His jaw snapped shut so fast Ariadne heard his teeth click and a brilliant shade of scarlet bloomed across his entire face, petering out in splotchy sections halfway down his neck.

“Eames.” He said, voice rough with sleep and embarrassment, and Ariadne watched with fascination as a small shoot of color shot across the bridge of Eames’ nose.

“Welcome back, darling.” He said, almost on autopilot as he crossed one leg over the other.

Arthur winced at the nickname, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “My apologies about that. That was… well, that was inappropriate.”

“’s fine.” Eames wasn’t looking at him, staring instead at the floor as though it was the most interesting thing in the universe.

An awkward silence fell and Ariadne looked from Arthur, who was sitting stiffly in his chair, to Eames, who looked like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands.

Honestly. _Boys_.

She drew up her phone and, with the flick of a finger, sent off a picture message, choosing the shot that she thought captured the most longing.

Eames and Arthur’s phones went off at the same time – Eames’ with an obnoxious pinging sound, and Arthur’s with a subtle vibration.

For a moment, both were quiet, just staring at their phones.

Arthur cleared his throat and snapped his phone shut, shoving it into his pocket as Eames, chewing his lower lip, tapped a few buttons on his.

“Really, Ariadne.” Arthur said, standing up and flicking imaginary lint off of his trousers. “I would have expected better from you. Privacy is to be respected.”

He turned away quickly, striding off towards his area of the room, but Ariadne could see the tension wound in his shoulders, showcasing the back of his neck, which was still stained with a rosy blush.

Eames stood up as well, tucking his phone back into his breast pocket and gave her a half smile. “Thanks.” He muttered, before hooking a thumb into his pocket and marching after Arthur, an oddly determined expression on his face.

Ariadne raised an eyebrow, feeling a smile spread across her lips, and got off the floor, dusting the back of her shorts. Time to go build her level – she suspected any work she may have had here was done. 


End file.
